Loverman

I spend a while getting ready before I meet him. Atleast two hours. Even normal times, make-up is a ritual. Putting a second skin on to face the world. Other people's eyes. When 'in love' it's even more important then before. It reminds me of the orient women. Bodies bathed. Hair styled. Cheeks painted and powdered. Carefully dressed before presented. My preparations are like that. Making myself shine from head to toe. Then comes the waiting. Fills my stomach like climbing a staircase, going on forever. The uniformed hotel porter hands me a key to the room. You haven't arrived yet he informs me. He knows why I'm here. 'Whore' crosses my mind.